Give her some money, David. Get up, my dear; it is very dusty here—you have such beautiful black hair. Sit down here, and rest yourself. David will soon give you money.
Lifts the woman and seats her near herself upon a rock, and caresses her.
DAVID.
What shall I do?
Confusedly; wiping his face with a red kerchief.
What shall I do, Nullius? You are such a wise man,—help me.
ANATHEMA.
Outstretching his arms.
By God, I do not know. Here is the list—we have not a cent, and I am an honest lawyer, not a counterfeiter. I can't bring you every day an inheritance from America.
Whistles.